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BigBen · 03-14-2005, 01:53 PM

The Long Walk:

The hospital was about 3 km from the salvage yard, and I was in no condition to drive. I was also fucked-up enough to not ask for a lift. I just started walking.
I walked past the Base Commander and the Base RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major), the two highest ranking people in a 300km radius. When I did not salute, the Base RSM stopped and followed me. He caught up to me in about 10 steps.
“What’s your name?” he asked calmly. You know things are not going well when people DON’T yell at you. I, however, could not see straight, and I did not know who I was talking to. I could have cared less. My jaw was busted, my eyes were watering, and I was about 2 blocks from the base hospital. “Aw, fuck off, will you pal? I’m in fucking pain here.” I thought it was a Master Corporal with nothing better to do than to jack me up. The RSM grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. He looked me in the eye, and then looked at my name tag. I must have given him quite a shock. I am sure it had been a couple of decades since someone had said that to him.
“What is your problem, son?” He was going to kill me, which was clear in his mind. He just needed more information to fill out the subsequent paperwork properly. An RSM would never leave gaps in the paperwork. When I started to stumble because he spun me around, he knew there was something wrong. “You going to the hospital?” his tone changed, and he looked like a concerned father.
“yeah…” I mumbled.
“Hey Dave, give me a hand with this man!” the RSM called to his colleague he was walking with, who happened to be the Base Commander. A full Colonel. I still thought that these guys were Master Corporals, and did not salute.

You can imagine the stories that circulated when a corporal is dragged into the Emergency Room, with an RSM under one arm and a Colonel under the other.

My jaw was not broken, and the concussion didn’t make me any dumber. The asshole that threw the shell at me came forward and bought me a 60-pounder of rye. We are really good friends, to this day. He’s still an asshole though.

03-14-2005, 01:53 PM	#50 (permalink)
BigBen Comedian Location: Use the search button	The Long Walk: The hospital was about 3 km from the salvage yard, and I was in no condition to drive. I was also fucked-up enough to not ask for a lift. I just started walking. I walked past the Base Commander and the Base RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major), the two highest ranking people in a 300km radius. When I did not salute, the Base RSM stopped and followed me. He caught up to me in about 10 steps. “What’s your name?” he asked calmly. You know things are not going well when people DON’T yell at you. I, however, could not see straight, and I did not know who I was talking to. I could have cared less. My jaw was busted, my eyes were watering, and I was about 2 blocks from the base hospital. “Aw, fuck off, will you pal? I’m in fucking pain here.” I thought it was a Master Corporal with nothing better to do than to jack me up. The RSM grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. He looked me in the eye, and then looked at my name tag. I must have given him quite a shock. I am sure it had been a couple of decades since someone had said that to him. “What is your problem, son?” He was going to kill me, which was clear in his mind. He just needed more information to fill out the subsequent paperwork properly. An RSM would never leave gaps in the paperwork. When I started to stumble because he spun me around, he knew there was something wrong. “You going to the hospital?” his tone changed, and he looked like a concerned father. “yeah…” I mumbled. “Hey Dave, give me a hand with this man!” the RSM called to his colleague he was walking with, who happened to be the Base Commander. A full Colonel. I still thought that these guys were Master Corporals, and did not salute. You can imagine the stories that circulated when a corporal is dragged into the Emergency Room, with an RSM under one arm and a Colonel under the other. My jaw was not broken, and the concussion didn’t make me any dumber. The asshole that threw the shell at me came forward and bought me a 60-pounder of rye. We are really good friends, to this day. He’s still an asshole though. __________________ 3.141592654 Hey, if you are impressed with my memorizing pi to 10 digits, you should see the size of my penis.